


Confidence

by TheBananishInquisition



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Confidence men, Confidence team, Er... will add more later, Leverage AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1923879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBananishInquisition/pseuds/TheBananishInquisition
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirstein is a genius. </p><p>He's done anything and everything from stealing a thousand year old statue from the Louvre to faking the long lost descendant of a nonexistent royal bloodline. Better yet -he's managed to break into one of the most protected buildings in the world: Titan Corp. So when he's called for one last job, he's not too worried, despite the ghost haunting his past; but this is different than the other cases he's taken.</p><p>For one, they've never included Marco Bott.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Counting Stars

**Author's Note:**

> In which I am so, totally into Leverage that I have decided to write an alternate universe chapter ficion about it. Uy, just kill me now...

[CHICAGO, UNITED STATES]

[2:36 PM]

The silence lies thick in the air, weighing on the four pairs of shoulders in the room like burden. The atmosphere surrounding the four figures is viscous and thick, full of tension and suspicion. The question hangs in the air like a ready guillotine, waiting for the fall.

“I don’t think you understand the weight of what you’re proposing Ms. Lenz.” One man says finally, voice cool and composed, managing to slip and slide in the stillness that continues to haunt the office.

“I understand enough, Mr. Smith,” the petite blonde answers, “to know that what is rightfully mine has been taken unfairly and unlawfully.” She sits perfectly straight, on the edge of the plush chair in front of a desk the man stands behind. “I merely wish to have it back.”

Her piercing blue eyes stare straight at him despite the other pair of eyes across the room.

“Then what the hell are you coming to us for?”

The voice is gruff and low and storms into the exchange with the subtlety of a gunshot. The tall brunette woman standing next to the young blonde flinches as the tension is suddenly cut in the room, but the man with his legs crossed on the couch merely takes a sip from his cup.

The blonde blinks calmly and slowly turns to stare into the cool, dark irises of the raven-haired man.

“I know what you do, Mr. Ackerman,” she says, her voice light and delicate compared to his low growl, “I know what you’ve done.” She turns back to the man in front of her. “I can’t obtain what I want in the position I’m in right now. The walls have ears Mr. Smith; it’s not so hard to believe they have eyes too. I am always followed.”

“Then who’s to say they did not follow you here?” Erwin asks smoothly, not missing a beat.

Levi’s hand twitches towards his suit jacket for less than a second before the brunette is already pointing a gun at his head. She stutters for a moment, however, at the not entirely unfamiliar pressure of a gun pressed to her back.

“Missed me, did you?” A gleeful voice crawls into her ear like an itch, and though the brunette wants to scratch, she doesn’t move an inch.

“Calm yourself, Ymir.” Krista says sharply, “These people are not our enemies.”

Ymir lowers her arms cautiously, feeling the pressure on her back lighten as she does so. She’s eyeing the room, trying to count the number of people, but she’s pretty sure only the four of them walked through the door.

“Who knew I still had it, huh Grumpy?” A woman cackles as she swings the gun around her pointer finger, her long legs carrying her to the couch.

Levi quickly removes his arm from the arm rest with a swear before the woman throws herself on it with a soft thud.

Ymir’s eyes bare into her trying to remember if she’s ever seen the stranger before –glasses, high pony-tail, cheeky grin. An untraceable tug pulls at a blurry memory from just previous of entering the bright office, but she can’t seem to remember her ever following them in.

“Shitty glasses…” Levi grumbles before taking another sip.

“We didn’t bring anyone here.” Krista says, continuing the topic at hand, “Currently, they are dealing with a bit of a… _distraction_. You aren’t in any trouble.” But she sits a bit straighter and her shoulders are pulled back taught and tense.

Another silence falls onto the room as Erwin eyes Krista.

She struggles not to squirm under the gaze –calculating, contemplating.

“Well, Ms. Lenz,” Erwin says finally, “I’ve heard what you’re asking of me.” He leans back in his chair. “I will deliberate the matter and contact you at a later –“

“I know what they did to them.” Krista uncharacteristically interrupts, a previously absent tinge of desperation coating her voice, “I know what happened to them.”

She pauses.

“I know what they did to you.” She continues slowly, almost reluctantly.

Levi’s eyes quickly shift to Erwin as Erwin unconsciously raises a hand to his stump of a right arm at the flash of pain that travels down his shoulder.

“It was unnecessary and it didn’t need to happen.” She says quietly, but the edge of confidence creeping in is hard to ignore. “It doesn’t need to happen.”

She refuses to crumble under their gaze.

“If you take my proposition, it _won’t_ happen again.”

Erwin continues to stare at her. He’s leaning forward again, hands clasped together on his desk.

Levi groans internally. He knows that look. She’s quite good.

For a brat.

“How long?” Erwin asks finally, ignoring Hange’s incredulous look and Levi’s pointedly resigned expression. “Not long.” Krista answers, shoulders dropping a fraction, “Two –three weeks. A month if we’re lucky.”

Erwin pushes his chair back and stands up, turning his back to the rest of them.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Lenz,” He says quietly, “we’ll gather the best.”

Krista’s eyes flash with worry, concern leaking into her voice. “Please Mr. Smith, you _must_ be careful…”

“Oh, no Ms. Lenz.” Erwin chuckles darkly, turning his head slightly to look at her, “As much as I am embarrassed to admit, we are no longer the best.”

* * *

 

[UNKNOWN]

[11:34 PM]

Colors dance all around him. Bright lights flashing on his walls, furniture, distorting the color of the dim room.

The man reclines on his couch, languidly lifting the remote to swiftly click through channel after channel. He halts at the image of a familiar building.

“Once again the mysteries surrounding the incident years ago around Titan Corporation was brought up at today’s trial. The corporation continues to deny the charge surrounding the contamination of Lake Sina leading to the deaths of hundreds. The plaintiff hopes to conquer this case by –“ “Complete, utter bullshit.” The man mumbles, clicking the news away.

He takes a long gulp of the can of beer set beside him and settles in comfortably as he rests his eyes on some stupid cartoon.

“ _Absolutely disgusting_.”

The man leaps out of his chair, gun at the ready.

“Well it looks like you’re still in your usual shape.” Levi mutters sarcastically, both hands raised in a mocking gesture of defenselessness.

“Fuck, old man,” the man breathes out, lowering his weapon, “how did you get in here? How the hell did you even know where I was?”

“I let him in” someone giggles behind him.

The man whips around, quickly raising his gun once more though he lowers it at the sight of the brunette woman grinning at him.

“Anyone else I should know about before I start shooting down my entire house?” he grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“Oh c’mon, Jean,” Hange cackles, “it took me _ages_ to think of a way to get in here! Though I’ll admit the RGB keypad was a nice challenge.” Jean snorts at her and turns back towards Levi.

“Shitty glasses,” he growls under his breath, “I told you we should have just used the front door.”

“Well where’s the fun in that?” Hange pouts, leaning against the back of the chair Jean had leapt out of, “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed this?”

“Completely needless.” Levi mutters as he turns his head away.

“Getting old, old man?” Jean snickers.

“Shut it Kirstein.” Levi sneers, “You act like your hands weren’t shaking handling that monstrosity.” He glares at the gun in Jean’s hand.

“Just because _you_ prefer knives…” Hange shoots, “Give him a break! That’s a very pretty gun Jean –a Glock?”

“SIG.” Jean mumbles.

“Ooh, a military issue? Where, Iran?”

“Switzerland.”

Hange lets out a low whistle.

“If you girls are done.” Levi interrupts with an eyeroll.

“Yeah, well, this was never my thing anyways.” Jean scoffs, locking the safety and throwing the gun onto a nearby sofa. “But seriously, how did you find me?”

“Oh, he’s so cute!” Hange coos, “Acting like we haven’t been keeping tabs on you for the last year –absolutely _adorable_.”

“What?” Jean hisses, shoulders tense as though ready to pounce, “What the _hell_ are you talking about?”

“Really, Kirstein?” Levi scoffs, “You didn’t _actually_ think we would just let you prance out the door smelling like blood and guts into the poppy field? I mean after what happened to you last year…”

“I’m fine.” Jean chokes out, eye narrowed.

“Obviously.” Levi drawls as he eyes the numerous empty beer cans littering the room.

“What’d you think I’d do? Chase them in blind fury? I’d be dead before I knew it. I’ve been keeping myself off the maps.”

“So you’re lying low?” Levi raises an eyebrow and he hears Hange let out another sigh across the room.

“That’s what we’re worried about.”

Jean twists himself around to glare at her.

“I don’t understand –“

“We’re here to offer you a job.” Levi interrupts coolly.

Jean stares at him incredulously for a second before relaxing visibly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Well, geez old man,” he snarks viciously, “I know I’ve had some rough times but I’m not desperate enough to _retire_ –“

“We want you on the field dumbass.” Levi snaps, “See, this is why I didn’t want to call him in.”

Hange shrugs. “Erwin asked for him.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Jean laughs, “ _Erwin_? What’s stuck so far up his ass that he’s desperate enough to call _me_ in for a field job? Anyways, I don’t play anymore. Permanently on the side bench. Sorry.”

“Oh don’t think so highly of yourself.” Levi says, frustration ebbing into his tone, “He doesn’t want you in front of the job, he wants you behind it.”

Jean is laughing now. Doubled over and clutching his stomach as tears threaten to squeeze out from the corners of his eyes. He can hardly breathe.

“Like my last job was so great,” he gasps, “that Erwin wants me to lead a job?”

“Are you done?” Levi snaps, eyes burning holes in Jean’s head.

When Jean calms down and his breaths become less erratic, Hanji continues.

“It’s Titan Corp.”

Jean’s heart stops.

“Ha ha…” he chuckles weakly, trying to hide the panic starting to bubble inside him, “Yeah, okay that would be a definite, one hundred percent no to that.” He feels both eyes on him as the chattering from the flashing television screen cover the tense silence in the room.

“Jean –“

“No.” He interrupts firmly, “I’m lying low –out of commission.”

“And how’s that working for you?” Levi’s tone is calm and suspiciously polite, but Jean narrows his eyes at him. “Awesome.” he breathes, “Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“Jean…”Hange breathes. “No.” Levi interrupts, “We’ll just let him do what he wants. It’s not like he’s going to care even if we tell him.”

“Excuse me?” Jean grits out between clenched teeth.

“Let Mr. Sad continue his pity party.” Levi shrugs, “Bet it makes you feel better –I’m right, aren’t I? You like being the victim for once. Get a bit off on it, do you? Staying all angsty and emo as everyone just tuts about poor Jean Kirstein.”

Jean is starting to breathe heavily, a roaring filling his ears. “Shut up...”

“You think that’s how it works?” Levi continues, “You just disappear and no one’s gonna follow? You think you’re gonna get over it by drowning yourself in alcohol as someone else takes another fall?” You think you’re the only one who got hurt in this? You’re too weak shitty brat. You’re so hung up on what happened a year ago that you can’t even see that what you need is right in front of you.”

“ _SHUT UP SHUT THE FUCK UP!”_

Jean’s eyes are blazing, piercing amber burning in the flames of past hate and horror. His heart is in his throat and he wants to throw it up right about now but something in him won’t let him or else he would’ve done it a long time ago.

“Get out of my house.” He says quietly, barely above a whisper.

Levi strides past him with no hesitation, but Hange doesn’t budge, staring at him with concern.

“ _Please_.” He chokes out brokenly.

She stares at him a second longer and opens her mouth as if to say something; but closes it as she think better of it. Instead she leans forward, pats his arm and turns to follow Levi out the front door, hand trailing down as she leaves.

Jean leans against the chair allowing himself a few moments to just breathe. After he’s sure he’s okay, he slams himself down on the couch again, but adjusts uncomfortably as something hard presses into his hip.

He digs around his pocket and registers a dull pang of surprise at finding a small, red flash drive in his hand. Jean tries to remember if he ever put a such a thing in his pocket or if he’s ever even had one when he flips it over and sees a phone number scrawled messily across the body.

 _Hange_.

Jean pulls himself up and walks towards the window. A refreshing night breeze sends a chill down his spine as he pushes the cool glass pane up. He gets ready to throw the stupid thing in his hand halfway across the world when something in his body forces him to stop.

He stays frozen that way: one hand gripping the window ledge and the other curled around the flash drive hard enough for his nails to cut into his palms.

Eventually, he lowers his hand and tentatively curls open his fingers, to stare hard at –at what? The thing that will ruin his life?

The thing that will save it?

He claws at his hair, vehemently shaking his head to clear his mind.

Before he can think too hard about it, he reaches for his phone and dials the number on the drive, a strange calm falling over him strengthening a previously absent resolve.

“How long?” Jean asks gruffly as soon as someone picks up.

“Two –three weeks. Month tops, and that’s only if.” Levi answers.

“Shit.” Jean hisses, squeezing his eyes together and roughly combing back his hair with his sweaty fingers. “My conditions. My team.”

“No,” Levi commands, “ _My_ team.”

“Fuck, Levi,” Jean snaps, “If I’ve only got two weeks to get into Titan Corp. –my team!”

“Just trust me, you shitty brat.”

“ _Shit_.” Jean hangs up.

He’s going to do it.

_He’s going to do it._

_Fuck_.


	2. B-Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean puts together his dream team -well, his almost dream team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I make Armin the sassiest character to have ever sassed.

[LANSING, UNITED STATES]

[3:17 PM]

Sunlight streams into the offices from the stretched windows, reflecting off the godly clean cubicles. The sounds of light, happy voices and the clicking of keyboards evaporate into the air soothing frustrations brought by the technology of the modern days. Amongst the crowd of parted hair and neatly placed buns, a mop of blonde sticks out like sore thumb.

“Yes, I understand,” the blonde says calmly, “but have you tried turning it on and off, sir?”

An angry garble of words streams into his ear, but he takes it in stride, fingers tapping away at the keys. It’s too easy, honestly. It would be a lot simpler if he hacked into the guy’s computer and just fixed it himself.

He shifts his eyes at the thought, pauses, and digs in with a sneaky grin taking careful precautions to make sure the company can’t trace his actions. Not like he’s a stranger to it.

A few seconds later, he’s staring at his customer’s computer screen feeling extremely satisfied with himself when he lurches back with a shocked sound at a familiar face.

“Hey, miss me?” Jean chuckles from the screen.

“W-wait, what?” Armin’s shaking his head, trying to figure out what just happened.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist.” Jean says with a knowing look.

“No…” Armin pauses. “ _You_.” His eyes flash dangerously and Jean leans away from his webcam as Armin eyes him through the screen. “Me!” He laughs weakly before quickly continuing, “Okay, I know what you’re thinking right now, but I just need to tell you –“

“No!” Armin’s hands fly up to cover his ears despite the thick headset wrapped around his head, “I don’t _care_ what you’re here for! _I’m_ telling _you_ that I am _not_ going down that road again.”

“Okay,” Jean says calmly with his hands raised in defense, “I get it, but you have to at least hear me out –“

“ _Two days_.” Armin interrupts, eyes closed, “I spent _two_ _days_ in that hellhole all because _you_ had to go chasing after that stupid blonde _bimbo_.” His lips tremble. “Do you know what happens to people like me in jail, Jean?”

Jean squirms uncomfortably in his seat, “I gave you a share of my cut?” He offers fruitlessly. “It is a _miracle_ I managed to walk out of that place with my virtues intact.” Armin hisses, his normally calm blue eyes raging storms.

“Ironic, considering your lack of it is what put you in the slammer in the first place.” Jean murmurs under his breath.

“I put that life behind me after that _horrendous_ incident.” Armin continues, giving no indication that he had actually heard Jean’s comment “I’m on the straight and narrow now –an actual citizen among the masses.”

Jean has to laugh at that, ‘cause that’s funny –real funny. And probably not true.

Armin shoots him a nasty glare that manages to send a cold shiver traveling up Jean’s spine.

“Don’t laugh, Jean.” Armin warns, “I’ve managed to put my life together pretty well –at least compared to what I’ve heard of _you_.” Jean erupts into a pile of giggles.

“Okay,” he gasps in between heaves of laughter, “but an _IT guy_? _The_ IT guy? I can’t believe –‘Have you tried turning it on and off, sir?’” Jean’s face disappears from the screen as he doubles over.

“Say what you want, but the job pays the bills.”

“ _Armin_ ,” Jean says, recovering from his bout, “after your last job, you don’t need _anything_ to pay the bills. We’re all set for life!”

“And yet here you are.”

Jean shuts up at that.

After a brief intermission of staring and awkward silence, Jean looks down with a sigh and ruffles through his blond locks with a quick swipe of his hand. “Erwin…” He starts uncertainly, “He’s offering me… this case. And I need to take it.”

Armin rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Jean, there is _no way_ you are so unsatisfied with the amount of money you –“ “No,” Jean interrupts sharply, “I mean I need _it_. Not the money. The case.”

Armin stares at his screen, but he can’t gauge Jean’s true intentions as long Jean refuses to meet his eyes. His thoughts scatter as a faint beeping noise signals another caller and he remembers where he is.

“I can’t do this right now.” Armin says distractedly, “I’ll meet you at that little café over in Trost tomorrow, the usual time –we can discuss this over there.”

Jean stares hard at Armin before giving him a curt nod and disappearing off the screen just as suddenly he appeared. Armin’s eyes linger a moment longer where Jean’s face was previously before turning back to his job at hand, donning his perky, helpful persona despite the thoughts whirling around his head.

* * *

 

[TROST, UNITED STATES]

[12:01 PM]

The café is quaint, small, a bit of the hole-in-the-wall variety. The bricks that make up the walls are mismatched both in color and shape. Indie music drawls faintly in the background and the smell of foreign herbs almost overpower the fragrance of coffee. The customers all look the same: beanie, tight jeans, scarves, thick glasses. The place is a hipster haven.

Jean loves it.

He tries not to stick out too much with his clothes and hair, but it’s considerably easy in a place like this. It’s why the place is his favorite rendezvous point. Armin’s gotten on his back a lot about it, saying something about getting caught and whatnot, but the best part about it is no one inside gives a shit. They mind their business and he minds his own. It’s kind of an unsaid agreement.

A bell sounds as someone enters the café but Jean just keeps fiddling with his phone, only looking up when the new customer drags out the chair across from him and sits with a little huff.

“You’re late.” Jean says pointedly.

Armin just rolls his eyes. “You’ve always been anal about punctuality. Good to see some things haven’t changed in the past two years.”

“Hey,” Jean says, recoiling defensively, “it’s important for someone in my profession to be able to time things absolutely perfectly, okay? Not like _you_. You just tinker away at your technology.”

“Whatever.” Armin waves off, “What’s this thing about a new job from Erwin? And why were _you_ offered it of all people?” He ignores the glare Jean sends his way. “Besides, I thought you were out of commission.” Armin says, “I’m a bit out of touch myself. Been off the field too long.”

“Ha!”

Armin narrows his eyes at him. “What?”

Jean gives him a disbelieving look. “Oh please.” He drawls, “The Vermeer in Florence? That Rembrandt in Paris? You really thought I wouldn’t notice? Traces of burns on the staples in the frames, that’s the sign of a precision laser –totally you. I live under a rock Armin, I’m not rolling around in my grave.”

In front of Jean, the small blonde has the decency to blush in shame.

“A lifestyle isn’t so easy to give up, okay?” He mutters, “Besides, they’re just a bit of insurance.”

“Insurance?” Jean raises a delicate, golden brow “For what?”

A large grin sneaks onto Armin’s face.

“Retirement.”

Jean barks out a laugh and reaches over to ruffle Armin’s hair.

“Okay, but really.” Armin says, leaning forward, the table squeaking under his weight, “What’s this about?”

Jean pauses at the question, slowly stirring his tea. “It’s Titan Corp.” He answers smoothly, taking a sip of his tea.

“Okay, so he wants us to, what?” Armin asks, “Corner them, steal information, exploit? I mean it’ll be tough, but with a minimum of two grifters I think we could do it.”

“No Armin, we’re breaking in.”

Armin stares at him incredulously.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” He says finally.

“Both?”

“Breaking in, as in, infiltrating?” Armin asks hopefully.

“Breaking in as in the water’s already boiling.”

Armin throws his head in his hands with a tired sigh. “I need some coffee.” He murmurs. Jean orders the coffee.

Armin takes a deep gulp from the mug, ignoring the scalding burn as the coffee refreshes his system. “Well now I see why Erwin called you.” He mutters resignedly, “Are you going to tell me more?” “I need to gather everyone else.” Jean replies.

“Your team?” Armin asks.

“Nah, Levi’s.” Jean answers, trying to ignore the way Armin looks at him curiously. But when Jean refuses to elaborate, Armin gulps down some more caffeine.

Jean rummages through his jacket pocket for a bit, pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper and slides it to Armin facedown. “This is the rest of them.” Armin glances over the list then bursts out laughing. Jean glares at him, fairly sure of the reason for the sudden outburst.

“Well I can see why you recruited _me_ first.” He manages between giggles, “I can’t believe you agreed to this!” “That was _before_ I saw the damned list, okay?” Jean breathes, his ears bright red, “If I had seen it before hand, you think I would actually have taken it on?”

“Nah, Jean.” Armin says, shaking his head, “You would’ve taken it. This case is good for you. Especially after what happened to you last year.” But Jean ignores him, turning his head away at the burning in his chest. “But, I mean, what do I get out of it?”

Jean pats his person, searching for something, and finally pulls out a pen from a chest pocket. He pulls out a napkin and scribbles something on it before handing it over to Armin.

His vision blurs at the number.

“Holy…” He breathes, “What do I even _do_ with this amount of money?” Jean shrugs with a grin.

Armin stares a bit more at the napkin before taking a deep breath and looking up at Jean, eyes narrowed. “I’ll do it. But you gotta promise me I’m going to make it out alive. Don’t pull any of that shit from last time. If I get caught again, I doubt even _you_ could get me out.”

“It was bad, I know, I’m sorry.” Jean says emphatically.

Armin’s eyes flash. “You got me wanted in Spain, Jean. In _Spain_.”

Jean throws his hands up in the air. “How many times do I have to apologize before you forgive me for that, huh?”

“Spain was my favorite.” Armin whimpers in response.

They banter back and forth for a few more minutes before Armin leans back in his chair, arms crossed.

“Okay, well,” Armin sighs, “I’m in. Now what?”

“Eh hem, well, see, about that.” Jean looks at Armin with a slight grin, “there was another reason why I decided to recruit you first...”

* * *

 

[MADRID, SPAIN]

[1:21 AM]

She knows she’s only got a few minutes so she quickly clips away at the bonds on the painting. Her ear perks up at the sound of footsteps headed her direction, but someone calls out and the sound stops.

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and continues albeit a bit hurriedly.

A few seconds later, she is holding a masterful Van Gogh in her hand.

She breathes out a sigh of happiness (and relief she supposes) as she looks at the painting when a sharp, high pitched sound shoots into her ear. She nearly drops the painting as she claws at the bud snugly pressed into her ear canal but the sound stops and she’s jolted back to reality when she hears the footsteps again, though they seem to be headed away from her. She sighs and wills her heart to slow.

“Sasha?”

“Oh god!” She hisses as she almost drops the painting again.

“Is that Sasha?” Another voice this time. “Did you get her?”

“The fuck?” She whispers sharply, “Who the hell are you guys? …And how did you get in my ear?”

“Hey! You did it, Armin! It’s Sasha!”

Sasha shakes her head slightly, taken aback by the name.

“ _Armin_?” She gasps, “What the hell, man! I told you to lay low, I’m still trying to get the files! Not like that stunt you pulled in Italy and France did any help…”

She hears a groan on the other end and a triumphant ‘I _told_ you!’ as she reels herself up.

“Back on topic,” Armin says pointedly, “we’re not here to rag on my heists.”

“Yeah, why are you guys calling me anyways?” Sasha says, heaving herself back into the ceiling, “Wait, are you guys _together_?”

“Wait, what’s that Sasha?” Jean calls, “I can’t hear you –Armin, can’t you make the static any better?”

“Well, gosh Jean,” Armin starts sarcastically, “I don’t see you trying to piggy-back like a thousand signals to get into the earpiece of a thief _halfway around the world_.”

“Okay, okay,” Sasha says harshly, now crawling, “while I don’t want to come in between your _lovers’ spat_ , you guys just interrupted me in the middle of a job.”

“Yeah, we know.” Both answer.

“I heard about the Van Gogh,” Jean teases, “and I _know_ how you feel about Van Goghs.” “It’s the colors, okay?” She states defensively, “They just make me feel all light and cheery… I can’t believe he was such a sad man.” She reaches into her pocket and shimmies the arm up to take a bite of her apple. “Besides,” she mumbles with a crunch, “his brush technique is _gorgeous_ –“

“Sasha,” Armin interrupts, “are you _eating_ something?”

“What?” Sasha drawls before taking another bite, “Why would you ask that? Oops.” She sees a piece fall through a vent and she jumps and hits her head as alarms start blearing.

“Are those… _alarms_?” Jean gasps incredulously, “Don’t tell me you set off the entire security system because you were eating on the job. _Please_.”

“Okay, you know what?” Sasha says viciously, taking another vigorous bite of her apple, “I don’t need this –I’m a _thief_ , okay? I’m _hungry_ after a job with so much pressure.” She chews and swallows. “Not like Armin who just sits in a van all day with his black coffee and Cheetos –yeah, by the way Armin, drinking black coffee does _not_ make you look more intimidating, okay? My _dog_ drinks that stuff.”

“Well gosh, Sasha,” Armin says in his most sarcastic voice, “I didn’t think you thought so highly of me.”

“Okay, okay, stop it you two.” Jean says patronizingly, “Sasha hurry up and finish the job and call us when you get back to… wherever you’re staying.”

Sasha groans and rolls her eyes at Jean’s ‘dealing-with-kids’ voice as she finishes up the rest of her apple. She stares at the core and looks around the best she can in the small space she’s in to see where she can dispose of it when her eyes fall on the vent right under her chest.

Sasha shrugs and lets the core fall.

* * *

 

[MUMBAI, INDIA]

[9:42 PM]

The night is filled with polite chatter and clinking glasses. The smell of food, perfume, and champagne waft in the air, blocked in by the high walls of the hotel courtyard. A giant fountain bubbles quietly in the middle of the great party, changing colors that delicately reflect off the socialites’ faces.

“It is a pleasure doing business with a company such as yours.” A young man says with a light British accent, holding out his hand, “The partners will be so pleased.”

“Oh no,” the short, balding man says with a heavy Indian lilt, taking the offered hand graciously with both hands, “thank _you_ Mr. Tias for giving us such an opportunity! We cannot wait to get started!”

“And, uh, the money?” The young man asks, stilling the handshake.

“It will be wired to the account right away!” The other man bumbles, drinking the rest of his brandy and giggling himself red. “Eh, if you’ll excuse me! I seem to need a refill!” He walks off in another direction, back straight, but the younger man can see the slight lean of alcohol.

The man rolls up his sleeve to look at a shiny Rollex, standing brilliantly against his tan skin. He sighs in resignation as he looks at the time, rubbing the back of his shaved head. He takes a moment to look up and admire the night sky though he seems to regret the lack of stars. Well, he supposes that’s the price of living in style.

The phone in his pocket rings and the man is momentarily stunned.

Technically, his work phone isn’t supposed to, well, work.

He clears his throat before taking the call with a polite, “Hello?”

“CONNIE!” Screams a voice at the other end. He quickly puts some distance between the phone and his ear.

“Er, I’m sorry,” he says, completely in control of his voice despite his quickening heartbeat, “You seem to have the wrong number.”

“Ooh, Nac Tius, huh?” the voice says, not entirely questioning, “Yeah, I like him. He’s one of my favorites.”

Realization dawns, and Connie rapidly walks to a discreet corner of the courtyard. “Sasha?” He asks quietly, without a trace of accent, “Is that _you_?”

“And me!” calls a different voice.

“Hey, Connie.” Another voice greets.

Connie’s eyes widen at the intrusion.

“Armin? _Jean_?” He laughs, “What the hell you guys? I thought you guys weren’t going to be doing this anymore. I mean, besides those two in France and Italy, huh Armin?”

“Okay, is anyone going to let me live it down?” An exasperated voice calls at the other end.

“Well, I mean, all that aside… How the _hell_ did you get this number?” Connie’s bright voice lowers in octaves to a deep, growly whisper.

“I mean It wasn’t all that hard,” Armin starts, “I just pulled up some plans from a previous heist we did together and cross referenced all the numbers that –“ “ _Without_ the nerd, please.”

“What does everyone have against the hacker, huh?” Armin mumbles in a sad voice.

“I need you for a job.” Jean’s voice says calmly into his ear.

“I’m in a bit of a tight spot here, Jean.” Connie whispers harshly, “I mean, _you_ were the one who told us we’d have to scatter after Armin got caught.” Armin makes an angry sound at the reminder. “I thought no contact for a while?”

“It’s been two years.” Jean reasons, “Besides, I doubt you’ve been avoiding Sasha for that long.”

Connie shrugs. “We sometimes have some need for each other’s, er, _expertise_.”

“Whatever. The point is, we need you in Trost by tomorrow afternoon. Can you do that?”

“And what makes you think I’m taking the job?” Connie smirks, shifting his weight onto one leg.

“Well, Sasha’s in for one.” Armin says simply as Sasha greets him once again in the background, “And, well, you’re going to have to come over for the other one. I have to tell you, it’s an offer you can’t really turn down.”

Connie is silent for a moment, contemplating his choices. His eyes are roaming the open courtyard, finally falling on his mark, staggering back towards his direction. He sighs.

“I guess if _Armin_ is going along.” He says finally, “Am I the last one? Or is it just us? Wait, we’ve got Jean, Armin, Sasha, me… are we going to have a hitter or what?” Jean groans into his ear. “What?” Connie asks, eyebrows scrunched as everyone else laughs.

“We’re just saving the best for last.” Armin chuckles.

“This is going to be _the greatest_!” Sasha giggles.

“J-just call us when you’re done with the job!” Jean snaps angrily before hanging up.

Connie looks at his phone incredulously for a minute longer, not entirely sure what to make of the situation; but the man is back already, and Connie has a job to finish. And Connie always finishes his jobs.

* * *

 

[???, RUSSIA]

[5:57 AM]

Everything is covered in snow. Everywhere they turn, only whiteness surrounds them. It’s a wonder they’ve managed to navigate so accurately in this blistering blizzard.

They’re covered in thick woolen coats, hoods pulled over to block out the unrelenting weather whipping around them as they continue to walk. The sky is grey, covered in thundering clouds that block out the rising sun. Darkness continues to reign.

Both of their faces are covered, their eyes the only thing that peeps out between the layers of clothing. The one in the front stares out into the horizon with her coal black eyes, leading confidently despite the environment. The other lags behind, bright green eyes flashing in irritation at their seemingly hopeless situation.

“This is stupid, Mikasa,” he says loudly, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his mouth, “We’ve been shoveling through all this fuckin’ snow for _hours_ and I can’t see them at all!”

Mikasa stops all of a sudden and slowly turns around with a gloved finger to where her mouth would be. Eren quiets down and moves closer as she crouches behind a huge pile of snow.

The pile leads into a steep slope –almost a cliff and beneath them, some men are moving around huge crates from inside a expansive shelter under the order of another man in the center yelling furiously in Russian, though Eren can’t seem to hear anything. Blasted blizzard.

“We have to get closer.” Mikasa murmurs, crouching as low to the ground as possible and maneuvering herself around the snow while staying away from the men’s eyes. “Right.” Eren responds, following her movements.

“I think those are the arms.” Eren mumbles trying to stay quiet as they slink almost 10 yards from an enormous van. There’s another man literally a few feet in front of them overseeing the movement of the crates. “That’s what we need to report, right?” Mikasa nods her head, securing the red muffler around her face. “So we just have to make sure that –“

Both of them duck quickly out of sight as they’re startled by a shrill ringtone.

The thug himself is jolted from his intimidating glare and fumbles to take the call through his thick gloves.

Finally, he manages to take the call. “Allo?” He asks.

He freezes as the caller speaks.

“There is no one like that here,” he answers harshly in a thick Russian accent, “what are you… _Behind me_ …?” He turns slowly, looking around cautiously, expression changing instantly when he catches Mikasa and Eren.

“Shit.” Mikasa hisses as the man raises the hand with the phone like a weapon. She swiftly kicks the phone into the air where it lands with a soft thump into the snow. “Eren, watch out!” She calls, as she blocks an incoming punch, twirls around and elbows the larger man in the stomach.

Eren himself is occupied with two armed men. Blood is pumping in his ears as adrenaline rushes into his head. He smiles wickedly and taunts the two men closer before he takes a hold of one man’s gun and pushes is quickly so it slams into the man’s stomach. He whips his head back as he kicks the other gun out of the other man’s hand. However, he fails to block the punch aimed towards his head and flies face first into the snow.

He groans, quickly trying to regain composure as the two men start closing in.

“Hello? Hello!”

Eren quickly picks his head up and glares at the phone in front of him. “What the fuck…?”

“ _Eren!_ ” the phone transmits, “Oh gosh, Eren, is that you? We have to talk to you!”

He glances behind him, the guards almost on him now. He swipes the phone from the snow with a quick, “Just wait a fuckin’ second.” He swipes his leg, managing to trip one man into the other. Both fall to the ground and Eren barely manages to get up just in time to knock one man down with a kick. The other, he manages to maneuver himself so that he is locking the man’s head.

He presses the speaker phone.

“Okay, who the hell is this?” He grumbles, trying to keep the still struggling man at bay.

“Ha ha, miss me Fuckhead?”

Eren sighs sharply as the he drops the now unconscious man onto the snow, “Out of all the fuckers to –Jean! Is that you?! What the hell, Horseface, me and Mikasa were almost done with the job! Were _you_ the one who gave our position away?!”

“Just repaying the favor from three years ago.” Jean sniggers.

“Oh, fuck you.” Eren snarls before he’s being choked from behind. Eren claws at the attacker’s arms in a futile attempt before he starts elbowing the man, trying to remember the location of the solar plexus. It takes him three tries before the man lets him go with a grunt giving Eren the opportunity to whirl around and punch him in the temple.

“I’m offering Mikasa a job.” Jean says.

“Then why the fuck are you talking to me?” Eren hisses. “Because Mikasa never does a job without you fucktard any other retarded questions?” Jean snaps, “Geez, no wonder you need Armin around.”

“Armin?” Mikasa’s voice is right next to Eren’s head, “Is Armin there?”

“Yeah, I’m here!”

“Hey, tell him that I told him not to go after that Vermeer.” She says, tapping Eren’s shoulder. “Yeah!” Eren cries, “Yeah! I told him not to go after that Rembrandt either! _Armin_.”

“Okay, that’s it.” Armin sighs, “Today is the day I officially found out I have no friends. I get it you guys. Though there are a lot better ways to do it.”

“Hey, we got your back buddy!” Sasha’s voice cries, “I mean, we may be a lying, cheating, thieving bunch of bastards… But, friends to the end, right?” Eren is taken aback by the intrusion. “What the hell, Sasha?” Mikasa raises an eyebrow. “What, you gettin’ a whole team together or something, Kirstein?”

“What about it, Jaeger?”

“Well with me and Mikasa, you’re still missing a grifter.” Eren says.

“Good to see you using that brain for once.” Jean snarks. Eren ignores him.

“Uh, hi?” Connie’s voice reluctantly greets.

“Woah… Okay.” Eren says, “If you’re recruiting _all_ of _us_ , this job must be pretty big.”

“More than you can imagine.” Jean chuckles, but even with thousands of miles in between them, Eren can tell it’s humorless.

“Eren,” Mikasa calls quickly, “Incoming!”

Eren turns around and hisses something in German as he sees the rest of the crew from the front running towards them –well more like waddling. Granted, they’re waddling fast.

“Shit, we don’t have any time for this.” Eren spits, quickly gathering himself to stand next to Mikasa, “We’ll talk to you after we’re done –you can explain everything to us then, and I mean _everything_.” He lowers his arm to hit the end call button but misses it. “What the –what the hell, this isn’t my phone? How did you even –? You know what, just explain that with everything else.” He drops the phone into the snow.

“No fuckin’ _consideration_.” He mumbles.

Mikasa turns to him. “Not like we need any.” And takes off.

Eren smiles viciously before following suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know...


	3. What Are You Waiting For?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean has a kind-of-sort-of fateful encounter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I make Marco the dorkiest character to have ever dorked.

[TROST, UNITED STATES]

[8:35 AM]

The building is gigantic, looming over the whole street. The tinted windows reflect the morning sky creating a beautiful design for the rest of the city to look at. The revolving door continuously spins as business men and career woman enter the building in a never ending stream. It’s been a while since Jean has been here.

He tugs his cap more securely over his head as a man in a suit brushes past him. He glances around surreptitiously to make sure he’s not standing out too much, though he doubts he brings himself much attention in a street as busy as this. Nevertheless, he gives the building another once-over trying to bury the feelings that rise into his throat at the sight and turns around to walk back to the apartment in the area he’s bought just recently.

Just as he takes a step forward, something collides into his shoulder hard.

Paper flies into his vision and he stumbles back as something falls with a loud yelp.

“Oh gosh!” Someone exclaims, “Oh gosh, oh gosh, I’m so _sorry_.”

The paper settles to the ground and Jean regains enough composure to take a good look at the man on the ground in front of him.

He’s in typical office clothing –white button up, slacks, tie. His glasses are skewed, barely hanging off one ear and precariously perched on his long nose splattered with freckles. His dark hair sits almost like a messy mop on top of his head, parted in the middle as his bangs lightly hang over his brown eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Jean mutters, offering the man a hand, “when you’re the one on the ground.”

The man chuckles lightly, taking the hand and pulling himself up. “I’m sorry,” He says with an embarrassed smile, quickly righting his glasses, “I’m just… It’s my first day on the job so I’m a bit nervous.” He quickly crouches down to start gathering his papers.

Jean eyes him suspiciously, following his actions to help him.

“Here?” He questions carefully, “You work at Titan Corp.?”

“Starting today, yes.” The man proclaims proudly, but his expression falls at Jean’s face, “Uh… is that… weird?” Jean’s eyes widen. “Oh, no!” He says, “No, sorry. You just don’t strike me as a corporate business type.”

The man chuckles. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Truth be told, I didn’t want to go into the business, but some… situations popped up and I didn’t really have the choice.” Jean thinks he hears a tinge of bitterness towards the end of that statement but disregards it.

Jean hands the rest of the papers to the man when the man glances down at his watch and makes a shocked sound.

“Oh, this is not good…” he mutters, getting his bearings back as fast he can, “Er… I’m so sorry! Uh, I’m late!” And without so much of a thank you, he leaves Jean in the dust. “Uh, you’re welcome?” Jean says sarcastically after him with a roll of his eyes. 

The rest of the way back to the apartment, Jean makes sure to look both ways before he steps, taking care not to bring himself any more unnecessary attention.

The apartment complex looks a bit rundown, but it’s about as nice as any apartment is going to get in this side of Trost. Vines crawl up the red brick walls creating an attractive vintage effect that Jean likes immensely. The balconies are painted white and some of Jean’s neighbors have gone through the trouble of dangling colorful fauna from the railing in an attempt to brighten up the place. It’s nice. Home-y.

As Jean approaches his new home on the third floor (well for the next few weeks, anyways), he slows, inspecting the door. It’s unlocked. And Jean is pretty sure he locked the place before he left.

He opens the door cautiously; just enough to peek in and nearly flinches back at the rustling sounds from his apartment.

He’s moved in for no more than a day and he’s already being robbed.

He sneaks in trying not to make too much sound as he quickly tries to remember any maneuvers that haven’t been chased out by the alcohol from the past year. He races straight to the kitchen and ducks behind the counter, making sure to keep his breathing nice and even. There’s a reason why he’s not a thief.

He swivels around, grabs the edge of the counter and slowly lifts himself up to take a look at his robber when he makes an angry shout and startles Armin from… whatever he’s doing in _Jean’s house_.

Jean makes his way around the counter and tries very hard not to run up and punch the guy across the face instead bee-lining to the multiple screens now covering his once beautiful brick wall.

“W-what is this?” He demands, “What are you doing here? How did you get in here? Why are people always breaking into my house!?”

Armin raises his brows with an amused expression.

“Skeleton key.” He answers, “the security here is a joke. I didn’t even have to do anything to the guy in the front.” “This is an apartment complex.” Jean hisses, “We don’t need security.” “Oh, you gotta believe me,” Armin says with a laugh turning back to his wires, “if we’re doing what you say we’ll be doing, we need all the security we can get.”

“Well, did you look at the stuff on the drive I gave you?” Jean asks. Armin nods. “Yeah, everything is pretty clear –as clear as this job is going to get, anyways. She was thorough enough to give us exactly what we needed. What I don’t get, is why you’re taking it.” He turns his head to give Jean a hard look; but he goes back to working at seeing Jean’s frozen expression. “I’m not going to ask.” He mutters.

“Did you check their agenda?” Jeans asks after regaining his composure. Armin straightens up and beckons Jean to his laptop on the coffee table.

“Better than that,” Armin starts tapping furiously to pull up an email, “I managed to find an opening. I know how to get our man into the building.” Jean looks at him. “Connie hasn’t agreed to anything yet.” “ _Yet_.” Armin stresses, grinning at Jean mischievously, “Trust me. He’ll take the job.”

“What you bastards will do for money…” Jean chuckles.

“That’s one way of saying it, I suppose.” Armin says, “But that’s not the only reason…”

“A representative from the company is going to the airport to pick up someone from Germany for a new security system.” Armin explains before Jean can ask any more questions. “I can just send the guy a different terminal and flight number –that’ll be easy. Connie just has to, you know, pretend to be German.” “Well that’s also the easy part.” Jean waves off, “The _hard_ part is getting Connie to do it without really explaining to him what he needs to do.”

“Well, that _does_ sound pretty hard…”

* * *

 

“You want me to _what_?” Connie exclaims, “I’m haven’t even agreed to this job yet, Jean!”

“Oh don’t be such a baby.” Jean says, “I mean, you’ll be at the airport already, this is just a bit on the side.” Connie huffs on the other end. “I was literally about to get on my flight.” He whines. “We just booked you a ticket for a plane bound here in two days.” Armin says, finishing up with a satisfying clack, “Now you’re going to be a representative from a security company in Germany.”

“Which company?” Connie asks.

“You’re telling us.” Jean says.

Connie makes another exasperated noise.

“And how am I supposed to do that, huh?”

“Remember that Bluetooth earpiece from the Vegas scam a few years back? We’ll be able to hear everything from that.” Armin explains, “As soon as you get him to tell you everything, I’ll start modifying the profiles.”

“This is never going to work.” Connie groans.

“But you’ll do it, right?” Jean asks with a sly grin that Armin shakes his head to. “Well you guys aren’t really giving me a choice.” Connie sighs, “And I can only keep up this persona here for so long before my mark figures everything out.” “I _knew_ there was a reason why I hired you, Connie.” Jean says. Connie blows a raspberry from the other side before hanging up.

“And now I remember why I _didn’t_ want to hire him.” Jean sighs, putting down the phone. “Just wait until he’s together with Sasha,” Armin chuckles, still working on setting up the monitors, “they’re going to be a handful.” “Yeah, but they’re amazing together, I feel a bit more comfortable with them around.” Jean admits grudgingly. “Well I’m not going to argue with that.” Armin says, “Now come over here and help me with these wires, I hate setting up –I swear, it’s more difficult than the actual con sometimes –Hey! Where are you going?” He glares at Jean as he tries to slip out the room.

“Oh, well, I just thought I would scout the building, you know, try and get more information on the infrastructure, weak spots, that kind of thing.” Jean stammers, reaching for his bag. “If you didn’t want to help, that’s all you had to say.” Armin sighs. “It’s probably better if you just do the tech-y stuff… alone.” Jean shouts out as he closes the door.

When Jean arrives at the café, it’s lunch time but the place is quiet and nearly empty –just the regulars whose faces Jean recognize.

He orders a sandwich and some coffee and sits down, taking out his laptop to do a bit of research of his own.

Titan Corporation, one of the leading energy companies of the world with their hands on everything from fossil fuels to coal mines. But Jean already knows that. He needs to dig just a bit deeper.

Most of the articles surrounding Titan Corp is about the CEO’s illness and the prospective futures of the company. Jean opens tab after tab, finishing up his lunch. He quickly scans each article, closing those based on rumors, and keeping those with more credibility. Jean stops at a particularly interesting article from a very remote information site.

“The contamination of Lake Sina… hmm.” He reads aloud, drinking the rest of his coffee. He’s just about to dig into the article when someone interrupts him from his thoughts.

“Uh, excuse me?”

Jean jolts away from the hand tapping his shoulder. He turns his head rapidly and recognizes the smiling face of the man from this morning.  “Oh, uh, hi.” Jean greets hastily. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” The guy asks nervously. “Sure, I guess.” Jean answers, gesturing to the chair in front of him. He sits himself across from Jean, his bright smile illuminating his freckles.

“I, uh, saw you looking up Titan Corp.” the man starts, “Interested in working there?” “You could say that, I guess.” Jean chuckles humorlessly as he blindly starts closing his open tabs.

“Sorry about this morning. Some impression I made, huh?” the man says sheepishly, “I was in a pretty big hurry so I probably didn’t seem very grateful for your help.” “It’s fine.” Jean says gruffly, trying not to estimate the distance between him and the door. “No, really, that was a sweet thing you did.” The man insists, “I’ve only been in town for a week and I was starting to lose hope about this place.” He chuckles. “I know! I’ll buy you lunch!” He jumps up to order at the counter.

“I- I just…” Jean gestures at his empty plate and cup fruitlessly then sets down his arms with a huff at the weird looks aimed towards him, “Is this guy for real?” he mutters under his breath.

“I didn’t know what you wanted so I just…. Oh…” the man bounds up, a sandwich in both hands. His eyes notice the empty plate resting next to Jean before he blushes red right up to his ears. “Oh gosh, I just… I don’t even know anymore. I’m so sorry.”

Even Jean is starting to feel embarrassed at this point.

“No,” he says, waving the man down, “I was still hungry anyways, thanks.” This is a lie, but he guesses it’s not so bad when he sees the wide grin stretching the freckles on the guy’s face. He sits down happily, offering the plate up to Jean which he reluctantly takes.

“My name’s Marco, by the way.” He finally introduces, “Marco Bott.” The name suits him, oddly enough.

“I’m –“ Jean hesitates.

Every instinct he’s honed for the past ten or so years is telling him to feed him a name. Don’t give the guy an upper hand. Make something up. You’re going to get yourself killed. If he figures out your real identity –well, you’ve got a lot on you.

But it’s something in his eyes –the way they crinkle when he smiles. Maybe it’s the freckles, or the glasses, or the way his hair sticks up in all angles like he barely has time to try and brush it down in the morning but Jean can’t bring himself to lie to a guy who’s so open with everybody. He can’t even believe a guy like this still exists in this age and time.

“Jean.” He says finally, “My name is Jean Kirstein.”

“Ooh, fancy.” Marco responds, smiling, “French?” Jean nods, but doesn’t say anything more. He’s already given the man more than enough to indict him of numerous crimes ranging across the world.

“My family’s from Belgium.” Marco says, taking a bite of his sandwich, “But they didn’t teach me anything –said they didn’t want it messing up my English while I was growing up here. I’m still a bit sad about it.” “Were you born here then?” Jean asks.

Marco is momentarily startled by the question –or maybe Jean’s willingness to contribute to the conversation, either way, he gulps down what he’s chewing to answer that, yes, he was born in the U.S.

“We were pretty poor growing up, so my family’s really proud I managed to get a job with a company as distinguished as Titan Corporation.” Marco says, pride leaking into his voice, “I mean, energy is the future, right? I’m in the research department from this point on. Fossil fuel can only go for so long.”

“Isn’t that what Titan Corp. focuses on?” Jean asks inquisitively. “Well, yeah,” Marco says, “but they’re looking for a new energy source. I mean, we’re one of the biggest energy corporations in the world and there are already other energy revenues being offered in other countries. So many people have already claimed their own way of a renewable, alternative energy, but we’ve been targeting the Trost area so we’ll be experimenting with water –I mean, we’re surrounded by it what with the lakes in the area –so we’ve just got to get our act together and march with the times.” He finishes with an eager smile. “Sorry.” He says sheepishly, “I get a bit excited about energy, weird, huh?”

Something warm wells up in the pit of Jean’s stomach at the Marco’s expression. Something he thought he’d killed years ago. It’s a sort of nostalgic fondness. Very much like the one he feels for Armin, but this one’s a lot less ironic, and a lot more home-y and comfortable.

“Nah,” Jean says with a slight grin, “It’s pretty cool that you can be so passionate about something. Though, yeah, it sounds a bit pathetic when you’re rambling about energy.”

His grin widens when Marco sticks his tongue out at him.

After a while, Marco finally glances down at his watch. Eyes widening in panic, he stuffs the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, excitedly gesturing at the door. “I feel so bad doing this for the second time in the same day.” He mumbles, pulling out his work ID and clipping it onto his collar. “It’s all good.” Jean says, “You have a job, it’s nothing strange.”

“Uh, listen.” Marco starts nervously, “I don’t really know anyone here and I’m a stranger to these parts. I managed to find this place through what’s probably the rest of my luck.” He laughs, “So I was wondering if –if maybe it’s okay if I –maybe we can, you know –I mean, I thought this was pretty fun so –“

“Sure, Marco, let’s have lunch tomorrow.” Jean finishes for him, taking pity on the kicked-puppy expression on Marco’s face. He has a feeling this is going to start being a thing.

Jean swears he sees Marco’s tail wagging behind him.

“That would be really awesome!” Marco says happily, smile blinding, “Where? Here? This place was pretty good! Plus there’s this delicious looking pasta on the menu I want to try out.” Jean laughs. “Yeah, let’s meet here tomorrow.”

“I have to run now, but I’ll see you tomorrow!” Marco shouts from the door, “You won’t regret this! I mean –well, I meant –Bye, Jean!” And he races out, a blush on his cheeks.

Jean stares after him incredulously before chuckling to himself at Marco’s good bye. “You dork, what would I regret? I was the one who suggested it.” He checks himself quickly though, as he notices the other customers glancing in his direction. Jean quickly cleans up, placing the plates back on the counter and packing his stuff back into his bag so he can get back to the apartment.

He feels light. Which is odd for someone as downtrodden as him. _Marco Bott_. He repeats in his head. It’s been a while since he’s had friends. He supposes it isn’t that bad of a feeling, though he’s forgotten if this is what having friends actually feels like.

He bounds up the steps to his room two at a time and opens the already unlocked door.

“Hey, Armin, are you done? Everyone’s going to be here by evening so we have to –argh!”

“Hey, Horseface.” Eren smirks.

“Hi Jean.” Mikasa greets quietly.

“What? How? Did Armin let you in?” Jean stutters. “They came a bit earlier than expected.” Armin says behind him with two cans of beer.

“Yeah, well, if it was important enough to interrupt our job for,” Eren shrugs taking the can from Armin, “we guessed it wouldn’t be all that bad if we just quickly wrapped it up. We were done anyways. In a way, you getting us caught just sped up the job. Good thing too, I was getting sick of all that damned snow.” “It wasn’t so bad.” Mikasa disagrees gently, taking a sip of her own can.

“Well, wait a second while I run up to my room and put my stuff down for a second.” Jean calls, already headed up.

He flicks on the light, grumbling about intruders when the words get caught in his throat at the sight of Sasha playing around with his lamp.

“Oh, hey Jean!” She greets excitedly when she sees him, “I was wondering when you were going to get back. Is Connie here yet?” She brushes past him and out the door, thundering down the stairs to the living room where Mikasa, Eren, and Armin talk.

“Were you guys going to tell me Sasha was here too?” Jean calls down.

“Hey, Sasha!” Eren calls, “When did you get here?” “Just now actually.” She says, taking Mikasa’s beer and sipping it carefully. She gags at the taste. “Yuck, but yeah, I went up the fire escape. This place isn’t too hard to crawl into, huh?” “You’re telling me.” Armin says with a scoff.

“I’m sorry for not installing pressure sensitive tiles and a fucking Kerensky into my apartment before you all moved in, it’s my fault for thinking _too highly_ of you people.” Jean spits sarcastically. “That’s okay.” Sasha says, completely unaware of the glare Jean shoots at her, “You can make it up to me with this job, huh? And Lunch –I’m hungry. _Where’s Connie_?”

“He’s coming tomorrow.” Armin answers, “We’ve got a special job for him.”

“So you guys were alone together before we got here? Oh, you guys are so cute!” Sasha coos at Jean and Armin. Jean sighs as Armin blushes. “Sasha, I literally have no idea where you got the idea that Armin and I are together, but there’s no way in _hell_ I could date Armin –no offense.” “None taken.” Armin mutters. “Whatever you say!” Sasha sings on her way to the fridge.

“I swear she’s got selective hearing.” Jean sighs. “Well, that’s alright as long as she can get the job done, right?” Armin says with a light laugh. “True.”

“What is the job anyways?” Eren asks from the couch. “Nothing.” Jean snaps. “We’re going to tell everyone in one go –that’s the plan anyways. We’ll be able to brief everyone after Connie gets here.”

“Uh, when _is_ Connie going to be here?” Jean asks nonchalantly, picking at some of Armin’s documents on the kitchen counter. “Well we put him on an afternoon-ish flight.” Armin reasons, “He should be here a bit after lunch, why?” “We have to match him as soon as he lands, don’t we?” Jean asks. “True.” Armin accepts.

“So this job,” Sasha says, mouth full of chips as she sits cross-legged on the couch, pressing Eren up against Mikasa to make herself room, “it’s going to be pretty awesome?”

“More awesome than you can even imagine.”

* * *

 

[SHINA CAFÉ]

[1:37 PM]

“Jean? Jean!”

“Huh, what?” Jean mumbles, looking up from his phone.

“You seem a bit distracted, is everything okay?” Marco’s eyes are wide with concern –genuinely.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good.” Jean says with a nervous chuckle, “I’m just… thinking about a lot of things right now.” Marco’s eyebrows scrunch together.

_Cute. I mean –focus, Jean!_

“If you were busy, Jean, I wouldn’t have minded.” He says, his voice laced with a tinge of sadness.

“No!” Jean says quickly, holding his hands up, “I’m just a little nervous is all –there’s a job I’ve got and I… start today…” He glances back to the phone in his hand.

“Congratulations, Jean!” Marco replies ecstatically, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he gives Jean a blinding smile, “I’m so happy for you! Must be exciting!” He pauses as though to give Jean a chance to elaborate, but Jean keeps silent, giving Marco a very forced smile.

Marco’s smile dims.

“It _is_ exciting… isn’t it?”

“Of course!” Jean chokes out, “Uh, just a second, I think I need some more coffee.” He nearly trips on his way to the counter.

He hastily mutters his order to the cashier and takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down as he leans on the counter. _Calm down, it’s going to be okay_. He tells himself, repeating it like a religious mantra. It’s the only way he won’t go mad.

“John?”

He doesn’t even correcting the cashier, silently taking his coffee.

He turns back to his table, when his heart goes into overdrive once more at the sight of Marco inspecting his phone.

“That’s mine.” He says lamely, trying not to snatch it from Marco’s curious fingers.

“Sorry.” He replies, a guilty blush gracing his cheeks, “It’s just… I’ve never seen that model before. Is it new?”

“Uh… you could say that?”

A brief image of two unconscious security guards bound together in a room full of phone prototypes flashes across Jean’s mind making a small smirk threaten to appear.

Marco hands back his phone. “I think someone called you, by the way.” He informs Jean happily, “Sorry, yeah, I was going to tell you but then –hey, where are you going?!” Jean has already grabbed his backpack and slung it across one of his shoulders.

“Uh, I’ve gotta go this was really fun we should do this again tomorrow I’ll see you then.” He quickly says in one breath as he runs out the door, not bothering to see the disappointed expression flit across Marco’s face.

* * *

 

“You’re late!”

“Yeah, sorry, I missed the call.” Jean pants, putting down his backpack and taking the small bud that Armin offers him. He presses it into his ear.

“Jean! Were you _cheating_ on Armin?!”

Jean doesn’t even bother gracing that question with a response.

“Is he already off the plane?”

* * *

 

[TROST INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT]

[1:53 PM]

“If anything happens to me, I’m _so_ blaming you, Jean.” Connie hisses, glancing around trying to not look too worried about his current situation.

The airport is flooded with people. The sounds of rolling suitcases create a tumultuous tremor on the floor. Left and right, people are on the phones, whispering sweet greetings or red faced from plans gone wrong. The port is pristine and the wide windows allow enough sunlight to enter to glare off the walls. After 20 hours in a dark airplane, Connie struggles to keep the light from blinding his eyes. His Bluetooth is snug in his ear and he’s already been sort of briefed about what to do.

“Just get as much information as you can.” Armin had said, “Be vague with your answers if he asks any questions. Let him fill in the gaps, you’ll be fine. From what I could fine, this whole thing is super hush hush so it’s probably better if you don’t know too much.”

“I can’t believe you guys actually got me to do this.” Connie grumbles, adjusting his suit.

“Okay, the name’s been fed and I made sure they went to _your_ terminal instead of the original.” Armin explains, “So some really important-looking guy is probably waiting for you with your name.” Connie looks around and spots his alias. “Yeah, I got it.” He murmurs, “Excuse me, I am Franz Kefka, will I be following you?”

His switch is masterful, stance straight and proper, speech infused with a hint of a German accent that sharpens his enunciation.

“Ah, yes!” The representative greets, “The car is waiting in the front, do you have any more luggage we should account for?” Connie waves him off with a swift flick of his wrist and walks ahead, “No, no, I only brought what I would need.”

“Of course,” The man says, “I hope you had a comfortable flight, Mr. Kefka. Titan Corp. only serves the best to the best; and we are honored that you have accepted our proposal.”

Connie nearly freezes.

“Just keep going.” Armin says.

“Yes, my company only serves the best, as you know.” Connie says smoothly, “The others can only afford so much…” “Yes, that’s why when we heard about the Steranko Security System, we just knew we had to have it. Especially after that huge fiasco last year –you know.” The man says happily, “Well, the company knew we’d have to up the ante after that.”

“Steranko…” Armin breathes, “Jean…”

“Just keep going.” Jean urges, “How long until?”

Connie turns around to give a hard look at the man. “Are you security?” “O-oh, well, no.” The man stammers nervously, “I’m just a representative –mostly at the desk.” “Hmph.” Connie sniffs before continuing on his way, “Then how do you know about the system? We are under strict restrictions after all –time, files…”

“Well, everyone knows about the incident. That’s why the restrictions are so secure.” The man hurries after him, “I mean, two weeks to install a whole new system? That’s going to be a challenge. Everyone’s in on it.”

“Jean…” Armin breathes again, this time tilting his head to look up at him. “We’ve got time.” Jean says, “Connie, just keep going; Armin, start modifying the profile.”

“A Steranko.” Armin whispers as he does what he’s told, “A _Steranko_.” From behind him, Eren is kicking up a fuss.

“ _Titan Corporation_? Are you fucking kidding me, Kirstein? You brought me around the world to do the _impossible_?”

“Hey!” Jean snaps, “ _I_ did it!”

“And look how well _that_ turned out!” Eren spits.

“Even I’m not crazy enough to go for a Steranko.” Sasha reasons, “Jean, this time, I think we’re _actually_ looking at the impossible.”

All eyes are following Jean as he paces the room.

“Look,” he says, finally stopping in front of them, “the guy said himself, they’ve got two weeks. If they’re going to be installing a new security system, they’re going to be taking out the old one. We’ve got maybe one –two days next week where they literally have nothing but guards patrolling –we’ve got a weak spot. This is _perfect_.”

The most the others can do is stare.

* * *

 

“I didn’t even agree to this. You guys made me do it!”

“I don’t even know _why_ I came from a perfectly reasonable job to walk into this nightmare –I _knew_ something was fishy the moment you called us in, Kirstein!”

“I try and stick to art, okay, I don’t want a _death wish_.”

“Jean, even _I_ can’t hack a Steranko.”

“Okay, _SHUT UP_!”

The noise dies down.

“First of all, Armin, we’re not going be hacking a Steranko, we’re going to be done with the job before they even start installing it; second of all, you guys don’t even _know_ what we’re going to be doing at Titan Corp!”

“Okay, so we’re _not_ breaking in?” Sasha asks, staring at Jean with wide brown eyes.

“Er… well, okay maybe you have an _inkling_ –“

“I am feeling _so_ uncomfortable right now.” Connie murmurs.

“Just –just _listen_.” Jean says, “I went after all of you for a _reason_ , okay –yeah, even you Jaeger. I wouldn’t have even bothered if I didn’t know you guys could do it. Now we’ve only got one shot at this. An opportunity like this –it doesn’t even come once in a lifetime. If I don’t take it now, I’ve lost it. That’s it…”

Everyone is still looking at him.

“Well,” Armin sighs, “I already agreed to this, so I guess I’ve got no choice.” Jean shoots him an appreciative look that Armin reciprocates with a small smile.

Eren groans. “Well if Armin’s in…” Mikasa nods beside him.

“I mean, they know my face, right…?” Connie agrees hesitantly.

Jean looks at Sasha, who breaks into a wide grin and jumps on him, squeezing him hard. “Aw, Jean, we’re here for you, buddy! We’ll take good care of those bastards! You’re in good hands!” “Yeah, Sasha,” Jean gasps, “Can’t… really… just…”

“So are you going to brief us or what?” Eren drawls nonchalantly. Sasha lets go of Jean and throws herself back on the couch, her attentive expression putting him out. “Er, right.” Jean stammers, nodding to Armin, “Go for it.”

“Okay well, this is our client.” Armin says, clicking his remote and pulling up pictures of a very petite blonde girl with wide blue eyes, “Krista Lenz. But she was born under –“ “She’s pretty, I like her.” Sasha interrupts, pointing at the screen.

“She _does_ have this Goddess kind of quality about her, doesn’t she?” Armin agrees.

“Okay, okay,” Jean intercepts, “you guys aren’t here to _flatter_ her, if you want the money you gotta focus you idiots.” “Pushy.” Armin says under his breath, but he continues the briefing under Jean’s glare.

“Well, she’s registered as Krista Lenz in, like, everything, but, and this is the catch, she was born under the name Historia Reiss.”

“ _Reiss_?” Eren asks, “Like, _Lod Reiss_? CEO of Titan Corp?”

“Okay, well that’s the thing.” Armin says, clicking up more pictures, “Lod is currently being hospitalized for terminal cancer. Stage IV pancreatic. He’s actually been in the hospital for _years_. But I guess the doctors are saying he’s running out of time, cause what dear Ms. Lenz wants us to do is bring her proof of birthright before he’s pushing daisies.”

“Okay, so before daddy clocks out, she wants the courts to acknowledge her relationship with him so that she takes the company after he’s dead?” Connie reasons.

“Well, that’s as much as I know.” Jean says. “You didn’t ask for more?” Eren growls. Jean shrugs.

“Hey, we’re all conmen –and women –we don’t ask questions. We do our job and then we get the money.”

“How are we going to do the job?” Mikasa asks quietly.

“According to Ms. Lenz –or Reiss, I guess –her mother and father were pretty in touch with each other.” Armin explains, getting up from the couch to stand in front of them, “Strictly letters.” “Ooh, romantic.” Sasha sighs. “Yeah,” Jean scoffs, “that, and less tracing. He kept it very professional on his end –didn’t want it getting out that he’d gone off and knocked up some hooker from the streets. He only started supporting the daughter directly after the mother died.” 

“So are we going after the correspondence?” Connie asks, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “Well, that.” Jean says with a nod, “But we’ll also need the will. Which is all snug as a little bug in some well-guarded vault in, you guessed it, Titan Corp.”

“Are you insinuating that the letters are _not_ with the will?” Mikasa questions with a confused expression. “Mmmmmmm… yes.” Jean responds reluctantly, “ _But_ , our wonderful client has already told us where she thinks it might be hidden.”

“Do I even want to know?” Eren groans.

“No, I mean, well, that’s the easy part.” Armin answers, “According Ms. Reiss, there’s a possibility that the letters were intercepted when Lod was admitted into the hospital. They were moving all his documents and stuff near his private room so he could still work.”

“Man with a good work ethic,” Connie approves, “I can dig that.”

“Yeah, so before we can actually tackle the Titan,” Jean says taking the remote from Armin and pulling up a few pictures of his own, “We have to take down Kiorva Incorporated.”

Sasha stands up, still holding the bowl of chips, to take a better look at the building. She cocks her head to the right as she inspects it closely, eye squinted in concentration. “Hmmmm…” She mumbles, “Nice. Very nice. I could do with this.” She nods her head before turning back to the rest of the crew. “I’m going to have to look around the building first hand before I can do anything, but I can definitely get in.”

“Okay, well that’s good.” Jean says, “Cause we’ve only got a day before the party.”

Sasha’s face falls. “Party? What party?”

Jean grins wickedly at her.

“Oh you’re going to _love_ this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is a handful...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer for the rest of this fic however long it might go: I literally know nothing about heists, conning, thieving, etc. Everything I've written I've learned from watching 5 seasons worth of a TV show and a movie. Like seriously. I can't even right now.


End file.
